Splatter
by Katraa
Summary: Neku takes the chance he is offered at the end of his Game and shoots, casting him into a position he didn't necessarily want. One that drives him to the brink of insanity. .alternate ending.


**author's note:  
**  
oneshot i originally wrote for the LJ community. alternate ending where neku took advantage of the last game and shot joshua. much chaos ensues, as you will see. please leave your comments in a review :D

_also_: to those who read my KH fanfics... I am planning to update By Chance shortly. Half the chapter (ending chapter, mind you) is done. So It'll be up shortly.

* * *

**Splatter**

The earsplitting sound of the past gunshot echoed in his ear, causing his mind to flicker between reality and reveries. His small hands instinctively curled up into fists as he held his head, resisting the urge to crumble to his knees and cry out in confusion. He said nothing for a moment, letting the memory of his death engulf him. The very memory sent waves of anger and frustration through him. Blue eyes shut quickly, blocking out the vision of the tall silver-haired boy before him. It was too hard to stand here and look at him after all _this_.

"It was you!" His breathing was irregular and his words choppy, jumbled messes. "I thought... I thought I finally found a friend I could relate to... But it was _you_! You killed me!"

The anger continued to boil in the red-haired boy as he stood there, body now numb to the core. His eyes flashed open in anguish as he stared at the face of his killer. So calm, so indifferent. It disgusted him entirely how a person could be so unperturbed at the idea of _killing_ another.

The Composer smirked, his lips curling up into a smirk that Neku knew, full well, never was a good thing. A glimmer of mischief appeared in the silveret's eyes, followed by a soft giggle, before he spoke. "Hee hee. Now, Neku, why don't we play one last Game?"

_His eyes roved over his partner, silently making note of how beautiful he was when he wasn't saying anything at all. No smirk, no giggle, no condescending words…just silence. He was breathtaking and it took everything Neku had not to lose concentration on the mission and shove him against the nearest wall, wanting something more than a 'casual acquaintance'. He needed someone to quarrel with, bicker with, fight with, _love_, and his partner seemed to be so similar to him that the answer just seemed so obvious._

"You tricked me…" Neku's eyes flashed with pain and growing fury. He had been used and cheated. He had been played by the one person he had allowed himself to trust, to shamefully fantasize over. It wasn't fair. It was never fair.

Joshua remained stoic. "The winner gets to be the Composer, and do whatever he likes with Shibuya. If you win, you decide. If I win, I'll decide. ...Of course, I've already decided."

Joshua's eloquent words went in one ear and out the other. "You're a monster," the red-head seethed as he finally lowered his hands from his hair, body trembling. His eyes shot down to a gun that now lay at his feet, shining innocently. His breathing grew coarse as his gaze wandered between Joshua and the gun, filled with indecision. Joshua broke him. Joshua broke not only his trust but _him,_ somehow, in these short minutes.

Joshua's lips fell down, feigning a frown. "Neku? You'd better pick up that gun. I mean, this IS going to be a duel. I'll keep the rules extremely basic. I'm going to count down from ten. On zero, we shoot. See? Easy."

Neku was revolted at the very idea of having considered picking up that gun. He was appalled by the idea of shooting his once-friend. Then again, they never were friends, were they? What a sickening notion. "Don't screw with me, Joshua!" he spat as his gaze lifted from the tempting gun and back over to the silveret who remained untroubled. It ate away at Neku to see him that way.

"I assure you, I'm not. Life's little crossroads are often as simple as the pull of a trigger." To emphasize point, the silveret gave a teasing brush of his thumb along the trigger to his own gun, looking at it with nonchalance. His tongue flicked out and ran almost invisibly along his bottom lip, almost delighted at the fact of holding the gun that once claimed Neku Sakuraba's life.

Neku didn't miss the gesture, nor did he miss the chance to scramble into a kneeling position and lift the gun into his hands. He had never held one before. He had never thought of it. The cold metal was weighty in his hands, just like his conscience was bound to be after this. His fingers wandered over the unfamiliar territory, hoping to familiarize itself with it. If Joshua was going to play games, continue playing games with his shaky mind and tattered Soul, then he wasn't going to stand by.

"Neku... Hee hee, your face is priceless. Don't you remember what Mr. Hanekoma told you?"

Neku remained staring down at the gun in his hands. Expand your horizons, huh? Trust your partner? It was all a bunch of shit. All a lie. The red-head shuddered, holding the gun tighter as his finger came to greet the trigger, surprised at how sinfully right the connection felt.

"I'm just…" Neku began, voice tired, exhausted, _broken_. 'I'm just trying to accept the fact that the one person I could relate to turned out to be a cold-blooded murderer. I'm just a little pissed off that you could do such a thing and lie about it. I'm just considering shooting you right now and getting _my_ life back, the life you _stole_.'

"Oh, before I forget! I've collected your entry fee. Now... Let the Game begin. 10...9..." Joshua began the countdown, fingers relaxing against his own trigger. He stood poised, as any killer should be. Violet eyes shined with no emotion, just an empty plate that Neku once had admired so damn much.

Neku lifted the gun higher into the air, aiming it right at the Composer. He faltered for a moment, a hot tear gathering in the corner of his eye. The pressure of the UG was too much for him. This constant up-and-down rollercoaster was too much. Joshua's betrayal was just too much. His core shook and he stared at the silveret's moving lips with abhorrence.

"I want my life back," Neku whispered brokenly under his breath, finger tightening around the trigger. He didn't look when he shot, only pointed and pulled. He heard the gunshot in his ear, followed by the horrified yells of his friends that were set free from their constraints. Neku held the gun tightly in hands as he remained standing, not daring to watch the Composer fall. "Game over, Joshua," he stated under his breath, the hand holding the gun shaking. Whether the shake was from nerves, the pull-back, or something else, he wasn't entirely sure. The only thing he was certain of, as his friends stared, horrified, was that he didn't feel one ounce of guilt.

The gun fell to the floor in an oddly melodic clatter.

**xxx**

It was three years later. Neku Sakuraba had been Composer for three long grueling years.

The first year had been great. He hadn't felt a single strand of remorse for his fallen partner. He was _glad_ that he had won the game and got his life back. He was glad that he could send his _friends_ back to the Real ground, each with their entry fee and a hesitant smile. He…didn't mind the job that much, so long as he got to see his friends occasionally when they wandered down near the Underpass. The job, truthfully, had been harder than he expected. Keeping an entire city in tune with itself was more difficult than it sounded. There were times when the teenager had nearly lost it from the stress, but his Producer, a rather distant Sanae Hanekoma, had snapped him out of his darkening thoughts. Apparently the death of Joshua was taking quite the toll on the old man.

The second year was a bit better. Neku was getting used to the limited times he could see his friends. He was also getting used to the way Shibuya's music would randomly bombard him, a single note being out of place that drove him utterly mad until he fixed it. He didn't have a direct role in the game, thankfully (his Conductor, some Reaper that Sanae had suggested) did most of the dirty work. His goal was just to keep things running smoothly. He was now the Soul of Shibuya.

The third year…was turning out to be dreadful. The job as Composer was slowly beginning to chip away at what made Neku human. His ability to feel and demonstrate humans emotions were slowly spiraling downward, as well as his purity. Memories of shooting the ex-Composer clogged his mind, causing every single melody in Shibuya to sound off, which in result made the Composer throw a mental tantrum. His sanity was slipping. The job of Composer wasn't one for the sane, he came to realize. No wonder Joshua did so well at it.

"I hate him," the red-haired Composer spat as he paced restlessly through the Room of Reckoning, his hand holding tightly onto a random report his Conductor had given him in regards to the Game that week. "I hate him."

' _It's been three years, Neku. You need to let that hate go. Only weaklings hold onto hate for that long' _his mind lectured, causing the Composer to snarl under his breath and shake his head. Joshua had stripped him of everything he once had. Friends, a normal life, and security. Once, he had no one in his life. No one to hurt him, to betray him, and he had been okay with that. Then Joshua had wandered in, shot him, tossed him into the Reaper's Game, and stole that virtue from his life. If he had the chance, he'd shoot him again.

"Well, try having someone shoot you, and then be willing to shoot you _again_," Neku quipped angrily and grabbed at his spikes of hair with annoyance before letting his hands fall away.

' _Now now, don't sound so spiteful. Grudges are bad for your health, Neku,' _the voice warned and then fell silent all together.

Neku rolled his eyes. Old news. The Composer walked silently over to the throne, strands of Music from every inch of Shibuya drifting in and out of his mind. His hand flew out and snagged a report from his Conductor, glancing it over. He set it down quickly and slumped in the throne, hand coming up to rub his head.

' _You seem bothered. What's on your mind? '_

"Shibuya," Neku grumbled in response, taking a seat. "It's so…stifling, small…the people in it, they can't ever make up their minds. And then there's the fact that everyone I was ever close to ended up either betraying me or leaving. Shiki and the others left to have normal lives…they…deserved it, but it's still hard. And then Joshua," he spat. "Shot me and made me realize how oppressive his town truly is."

' _Hm…then perhaps the position of Composer is perfect for you. You can rewrite things—fix them, make them the way you want.'_

Neku stared down at the floor and pondered for a moment. "I can't rewrite Shibuya's soul. I can do a lot, yes, I'm awfully powerful, but rewrite the city? I'm not that strong…"

'_If you find nothing in Shibuya that pleases you, then why did you shoot the boy?'_

"Because he deserved it," Neku hissed in response, body tensing at the mere question. "How _dare_ you ask such a question!...You know what he did to me!..."

The opening of a door caught Neku off guard and had him falling silent. A rather stoic Sanae Hanekoma lingered in the doorway, the Dead Gods' Pad behind him being slightly Neku's gaze met him from afar. Becoming a bit unsettled, Neku averted his eyes and settled them upon something in the distance. A pillar, perhaps.

"Boss, you doin' okay? I heard shoutin' and…"

"I'm fine, Sanae," Neku replied and offhandedly waved his hand, dismissing the uneasy air between them. "Just…was frustrated at something."

"Right…Well, if you need anything, give a holler…"

Neku nodded and watched as the Producer left the room. He said nothing more and settled upon staring at the same Pillar as before, the things he had once enjoyed doing seeming trite and boring now. The streets he had once loved to watch and tend to in his first year were just platonic and cold…unforgiving and unworthy.

**xxx**

' _You haven't given your Conductor any orders for two days, is something wrong? '_

"Haven't felt up to it," Neku grumbled, hands restlessly toying with a strand of his hair. "Just want to be by myself, wish you'd take a hint."

' _My my, you're so bi-polar sometimes.'_

Neku's eyes narrowed at the voice. "Well, you're awfully annoying, so leave. I have things to do."

'_Like what? Sit around and brood because your lovely city is slowly collapsing? Why don't you just give up and help things out for once?'_

"Why don't _you_ just shut the hell up?!" the red-head snapped and irritably held his head, mind a bit fuzzy. He grumbled a slew of curses under his breath and went back to inspecting a few Players from on top of a building, frequency up to the point of being invisible, even in the UG.

' _You're so moody, tsk. It's such a shame. You could make this city so grand… You push everyone away from you. Your Producer, your Conductor, your officers…it's a pity. You're such a lonely Soul. Once so bright. Now your Soul is tarnishing under the stress. You don't eat right, you don't sleep right, you can't conduct yourself like a Composer should. You're a failure.'_

Neku chose to ignore the familiar voice and went about staring out at the city, his coat ruffling in the wind.

**xxx**

' _Neku, Neku, Neku…'_

"What?"

' _You should sleep. Your dreary state this past year has taken a toll on Shibuya. Sleep would do you good. If you can't sleep, perhaps I can help you '_

"I'd rather not let you do anything," Neku muttered in response, watching his Conductor leave the word after a brief word about the current Game. Apparently some Rogue Noise had appeared and attacked a few of the officers. The Conductor and Producer were doing their best to get to the bottom of the oddity, much to the Composer's silent pleasure.

' _Oh Neku, you shouldn't be so cruel to me. I'm the only one you have, after all. '_

"Lucky me," Neku grumbled and flexed his fingers along the armrest of the throne. "Shibuya is doing horribly. The Players aren't as deserving, nothing is flourishing…"f

' _Because you can't seem to let go of a petty little grudge you're holding. Am I really that bad of a person, Neku? '_

"You? I don't have a grudge against you, you're just fucking annoying," the Composer complained and screwed his eyes shut, the exhaustion visible.

' _Neku, you still don't recognize me? Oh, you're truly a wonder, my little proxy. First you shoot me and then you completely ignore the fact that I'm still with you. You are an enigma. '_

Neku bristled. "You're not him. You're not sick enough," he argued angrily, stomach churning.

' _I loved the way you took over my job with such eagerness, Neku. That look on your face when you pulled the trigger? Truly priceless. I'm rather glad you took the job. Let me get away from the mess that was Shibuya. I must applaud you, though, I don't think Shibuya's ever seen a Composer quite like you. One that refuses to get close to anyone, even their right-hand men.'_

"Get. Out. Of. My. Head," Neku demanded and began gripping his hair tightly. "You've been doing this for over three years and I want you _out_ you sick bastard! You killed me! And even if you aren't him, you _sound_ like him. You are such a…such an asshole!"

' _You're rambling, my dear Composer. Hee hee… do you need me to prove it's me? Perhaps a retelling of your death would be nice. Ah yes…Minamimoto—'_

"I can't handle you," Neku stated frantically and pulled harder at his hair, not noticing when a Reaper entered and left the room, looking a bit confused as to why his beloved Composer was yelling at air.

' _Handle me? You could never handle me, my proxy. '_

"Go to hell, Joshua," Neku seethed as he arose from his seat, fumbling through the room, looking for _something_.

'_Trust me, Neku. Your mind is quite the equivalent. '_

Neku finally found what he was looking for and a rather incoherent, illogical smirk appeared on his once innocent, youthful, and vibrant lips. The red-haired Composer lifted the object in his hands, ignoring Joshua's ramblings. He had put up with them for three years and he was fed up. At first, the voice had been helpful, but things started crumbling. Now, the voice was nothing but a nuisance. He needed to dispel of it.

' _Neku, are you even listening? I always knew you were slow but— '_

Neku ignored the gentle brush of warm air sliding down his cheek. The Voice was desperate to reach him. He wouldn't allow it. Not anymore.

' _Neku…what are you doing? '_

"Game over, Joshua," Neku stated slowly, lips curling up into nothing short of a broken smile.

' _Neku…don't you dare think of—'_

"Goodbye, Joshua."

' _Goodbye? Neku, put the—'_

Neku laughed, a maniacal, almost sickly laugh, and pointed the gun that had almost killed him twice up to his head. His finger curled around the trigger, lips parting to speak his final words, "Fuck you, Joshua."

Third time's the charm, right?


End file.
